


Jam Week 2020

by ruasquirrel



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Animal Death, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Apologies, Cute, Cute Kids, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eye Contact, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humanity, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Marriage Proposal, Mild Blood, Panic Attacks, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slow Dancing, Teen Romance, Thunderstorms, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22546888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruasquirrel/pseuds/ruasquirrel
Summary: A series of prompt-based connverse ficlets for Jam Week 2020!Day 1 - Dance - During a power outage, Steven suggests dancing as a way to pass the time.Day 2 - Humanity - Connie catches Steven in a moment of vulnerability.Day 3 - Contact -  For Connie, eye contact is a mixed bag.Day 4 - Alone/Together - Steven wishes he could help Connie with her panic attacks.Day 5 - Drive - Steven and Connie go out for a drive, but end up facing a difficult decision.Day 6 - Sword & Shield - Steven and Connie try to decide whose weapon is coolest.Day 7 - Future - A proposal.--Summary and tags updated as the week progresses!
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran & Steven Universe, Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe
Comments: 83
Kudos: 252





	1. Day 1 - Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, Jam Week is here and I am horrendously under-prepared.  
> Let's do this.

Dark grey clouds hung heavy over Beach City, carrying with them a deluge of rain and piercing gales the likes of which hadn’t been seen in nearly half a decade. Trees threatened to fall, buffeted by relentless winds and targeted by sporadic bolts of lightning, and signs along the boardwalk creaked and wavered against their supports. Dumpsters rolled freely across the tarmac, with many spilling their contents; plastic wrappers and debris mingled with the Autumn leaves as they swirled and scattered among the streets.

Steven had been looking out the window, marvelling at the rolling thunderclouds and anticipating each flash of lighting with childish glee, as Connie sat on the sofa and counted the seconds between them. Pearl, a glint of affection in her eye, watched over the pair in silence. A flash of bright light forked across the darkened sky, briefly illuminating the beach house’s interior, and Connie looked up from her book.

“One… two… three… f-”

Before she could count to five, a peal of thunder rang out. Steven looked to her expectantly.

“How far away was that one?”

“Less than a mile, if I counted right,” she answered, setting her reading materials aside.

“Woah… that’s pretty close, huh?” he breathed, turning his attention back to the sky above.

“Oh, not to worry, Steven” Pearl reassured from her place at the table, “If we were going to be hit by lightning, Garnet would have told us about it by now.”

She finished her sentence with a casual wave of her hand, and there was a playful lilt to her voice. Steven let out a huff, and Connie pursed her lips.

“I don’t know…” she said, doubtful, “Garnet’s Future Vision hasn’t exactly been accurate lately.”

Steven shot her a warning look, pressing a finger to his mouth. ‘ _Don’t tell her I said that!_ ’, he thought with all his might, hoping it’d be enough to get the message across. Just as Pearl let out a confused noise and opened her mouth to question them, he rushed to change the subject.

“Hey, Pearl?” he asked, slapping on a façade of innocent curiosity, “Which would be worse, getting hit by lightning or being zapped by Yellow Diamond?”

“Getting hit by lightning, obviously!” Pearl announced genially. She sat up straight and adopted a haughty smile.

“Yellow Diamond may act like she’s ‘ _all that’_ ,” she began, playfully arrogant with a hint of subtle contempt in her tone, “but she’s nowhere near as tough as she likes to pretend she is. I would know, I had to put up with her for thousands of years.”

“So, you’re saying she _can’t_ generate more than a billion volts of electricity?” Connie questioned, eager to ensure they came to the most scientifically correct conclusion.

“Pfft! Hardly!” Pearl confirmed, “The Diamonds can’t even come close to the sheer power and majesty of Earth’s natural phenomena.”

“Guess they’re no match for Earth,” Connie added thoughtfully, turning to her teacher with a grin, “or the Renegade Pearl.”

Seemingly caught off guard by Connie’s playful flattery, Pearl’s mouth fell open slightly, blush rising to her cheeks.

“Well, I- You’re quite the force of nature yourself, Connie! There aren’t many humans out there who would charge at Blue Diamond with their sword drawn.”

Now it was Connie’s turn to blush. She let out a bashful giggle and played with her hair as Steven came to sit next to her, pride swelling in his chest.

“Heh… I’ll have to take your word for it ma’am.”

Steven took in a breath, preparing to lavish his companions in praise, but barely got a word out before a thunderous rumble resounded through the house, causing the group to fall into awed silence. Mere seconds later, light filled the room, and when it receded the group found themselves in darkness. Almost immediately, another peal of thunder rang out.

“Uh, I think the power went out,” said Steven, squinting. He turned to Connie, now obscured by a murky haze as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

“You think?” came her sarcastic response. Affectionate and playful, but sarcastic, nonetheless.

In an instant, the pair found themselves illuminated by a spotlight, causing them to screw their eyes shut and groan.

“Pearl! Turn away!” Steven protested, addressing the source of the glaring light.

“Sorry!”, she returned in a singsong voice, and did as she was told. As Steven’s eyes managed to adjust for the second time in less than a minute, he saw her cheerfully rummaging through the cabinet under the kitchen sink.

“I know they were in here somewhere…” she muttered, and Steven and Connie stood to join her in the kitchen. The pair shot each other a quizzical look, dimly illuminated by the light emanating from Pearl’s gem.

“A-ha!” she exclaimed victoriously, standing tall and clutching a large plastic bag filled to the brim with candles and tealights. “If we can’t use electricity, we’ll just do it the old-fashioned way! Steven, Connie, help me find a lighter and we’ll have this place lit up in no time.”

“You’re the boss,” Steven conceded with a snicker.

The three of them together, Steven, Connie and Pearl made short work of the task; lining every stable surface in the room with candles. Along the counters, on the coffee table and the shelves above the sofa. The stairs, too, upon Pearl’s insistence that someone may trip and fall otherwise. When they were finished, the trio stood in the centre of the room and looked over the fruits of their labour.

“Wow,” Connie breathed, marvelling at how drastically the room had been changed, “It looks… really good.”

“Yeah,” Steven returned, equally breathless. He refrained from saying aloud what he was thinking.

‘ _It’s really romantic, actually._ ’

But of course, there would be no indulging in corny fantasies and flights of fancy with Pearl in the room. If he just pushed down those hopeful musings and tried not to focus on the way the soft yellow-orange light perfectly framed Connie’s pretty face, maybe he could avoid any and all romantic tension altogether.

After all, they weren’t exactly alone.

Steven shook his head and brought himself back into the present moment, then turned to address his companions, only to realise with a slight gasp that the trio had been reduced to a duo. Only he and Connie remained, alone in a candlelit room.

“Wha- where’s Pearl?” he asked, taken aback. How had she slipped out so silently?

“Uh, she went into the temple while you were zoning out,” Connie said, quirking a brow at him and pointing a thumb towards the temple door.

“Really? I didn’t even notice…” he muttered. “Did she… say anything?”

“Something about ‘leaving you kids to it’, whatever _that_ means…” she said flatly, but the way she examined the room told him she had some idea as to what it meant.

Steven sighed, then let out an exasperated chuckle. As much as he’d like to be frustrated with her meddling, he had to admit Pearl was doing him a favour by vacating the room with so little fuss. At least this way he and Connie could appreciate the dreamy atmosphere, without the intrusion of a third party creating a whole heap of unneeded tension.

“Well, whaddaya wanna do?” he asked, trying his very best to look casual despite the jittery feeling in his chest.

Connie let out a thoughtful hum.

“Well, it’s too dark to read, so that’s not happening. Uh, power’s out, so no video games either…”

Steven let out a hum of his own, shoving his hands in his pockets as he mulled over his available options. It was then, with the familiar shape of his phone pressing into his palm, that he was struck with an idea.

“We could dance?”

“Dance?” Connie asked, her eyes glittering in the soft candlelight. For a moment, he almost got lost in them, just about managing to keep his wits about him.

“Well… I just thought, since I have all this music on my phone and… I think I have a Bluetooth speaker that should be fully charged…”

“Sure!” she chirped, with more enthusiasm than he had ever expected, “Let’s do that!”

Steven hurried to fetch the speaker, setting it atop the kitchen table and connecting it to his cell phone. He opened up his music library, and paused. Here, he was faced with a lofty decision, a choice which would establish the tone for the rest of the evening. He had been the one to suggest that they dance, and so whichever genre his chooses was sure to imply something about his intentions, no matter what. He could simply go with whatever catchy pop hits happened to be topping the charts at the time, but then that would squander the dreamy atmosphere. He could leave it on shuffle, but who knows what random assortment of genres they would be subjected to that way; the tone would be all over the place. He scrolled through his library, assessing the suitability of each album, each artist, each song. Melancholy certainly wasn’t the atmosphere he was going for. Rock? Not quite. Jazz wasn’t really his thing… What had Dad described this one as? ‘Transcendental space rock’? He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he was convinced that wasn’t what he was looking for either.

As engrossed as he was in thinking over his options, he hadn’t noticed Connie coming up behind him and looking over his shoulder.

“How about this one?”, she asked, startling him back into the present. He looked to the album she was pointing at, arm arching over his shoulder.

Ah, that one. An unapologetically cheesy, intensely sentimental album comprised entirely of acoustic love songs, by none other than Ned Beeran, king of stereotypical romance. Steven himself had no qualms with admitting he liked that kind of thing, but he hadn’t expected Connie to willingly suggest it. He turned his head, finding their faces no more than a few centimetres apart as she pressed up against his back.

“Really?”

She nodded, and immediately passed the responsibility.

“Just because I know you love schmaltz.”

He shook his head, a display of faux irritation accompanied by a tiny grin. He pressed play and set his phone down next to the speaker, then turned to face her with an exaggerated bow.

“Well then, Lady Maheswaran, would you do me the honour of sharing this dance?” he implored, as debonair as could be.

She giggled, straightened up and adopted an overblown persona of her own.

“Why, the honour is all mine, Sir Universe!”

They were both grinning as Steven offered his hand, and she took it in hers. He tugged her close, closer than usual, and placed a hand gingerly on her waist. Connie wasn’t nearly as reserved, however, immediately correcting his placement with unflinching contact.

“I think it’s supposed to go a bit higher”, she instructed, moving his hand with her own until it was splayed loosely over her side, a few inches above her waist. She then placed her hand on his shoulder, firm and self-assured. Her other hand was clasped firmly in his, and she gave it a squeeze.

“There! I’m pretty sure this is right.”

They were slow and meandering at first, both parties adjusting and readjusting their grip, attempting to match each other’s tempo and keep in time with the music. But before long, as always, they managed to find their footing and began to move in perfect sync. They were well accustomed to dancing together, and even more accustomed to moving in tandem. As children they would hold each other at arms’ length, jumping and twirling and laughing without a care in the world. On more than one occasion they had fused by accident, spinning about with their heads in the clouds, only realising they had become a whole other person by the time they managed to bring their shared body to an unsteady stop. There were times when they would dance to a different tune, slower and more intimate, but never quite as blatantly romantic as the dance they were sharing now. Now, there was a keen awareness of the closeness they shared.

Steven felt himself flush at the thought of it, and he was sure his hands were getting clammy, but Connie either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because she never once let go.

Stilted, tense movements steadily loosened, and both partners became bolder as the evening wore on, swaying, spinning and stepping in time to an ever-changing tempo. Steven never seemed to miss a beat, musically inclined as he was, and Connie’s movements were as steady and precise as they ever were in battle. Her balance was impeccable, she always seemed to know where to place her centre of gravity, which she demonstrated when Steven twirled her around, grasping her hand and holding it high above her head as she turned. He was confident, but not quite daring enough to pull her into a dip, or sweep her off her feet. ‘ _Maybe someday_ ’, he mused, ‘ _but not today_ ’.

When he brought her back towards him, she fell forward, all but colliding into his chest. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her to prevent her from hitting the ground, but she never seemed to consider that a possibility, pressing close to him with a diminutive snicker. She hadn’t tripped up, or lost her balance, but crashed into him with an intentional lack of grace, confident that he wouldn’t let her fall. Something about that action made him feel positively lightheaded.

Seemingly worn out, or simply tired of dancing, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder. They were roughly the same height now, though she still had a couple of inches on him, so he reciprocated the action, resting his chin atop hers.

“What, tired already?” he asked, voice low, acutely aware of how close she was.

“Nah,” she said serenely, contentment evident in her tone.

The music continued to play, lilting acoustic melodies accompanied by silky vocals; a smooth male voice crooning and sighing over loves lost and yet to be. The mingling scents of a dozen mismatched candles wafted through the air in a sickly-sweet aroma. Strange, yet not entirely unpleasant. Within it, two teenagers swayed lazily, their forms illuminated by countless tiny flickering lights. Outside, the baritone rumble of thunder accompanied Steven’s humming, a sound which Connie could feel resonating in his chest, pressed so closely to her own.

Absorbed in Connie’s solid and dependable presence, and perhaps a little lost in the moment, Steven turned his head and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, finally plucking up the courage to cross a boundary she had managed to cross months before. He pulled back for a moment, scanning her face for a reaction. She simply smiled, and let out a peaceful sigh.

A flash of lighting streaked across the sky, and neither of them bothered to start counting.


	2. Day 2 - Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connie catches Steven in a moment of vulnerability.

Connie had caught him in a moment of vulnerability.

Arriving at his house around 20 minutes earlier than scheduled, she had thought nothing of letting herself in and making her way up to his room. They were best friends, life partners; there was no need for formalities between them. And besides, she felt at home in his place. Sometimes even more so than she felt in her own house. She simply wasn’t expected to knock, and the few times she did she would be greeted with a cheerful grin and a teasing, “Just come on in, silly!”

So that’s exactly what she did.

Hanging her jacket by the door and dropping her things on the coffee table, she found herself alone in the living room. She glanced around, finding no sign of the Gems, either, then looked to the stairwell.

‘ _Must be in his room_ ,’ she thought.

Figuring that it would be more polite to call him down than to barge into his personal space, she opened her mouth to shout for him. However, her words quickly died in her throat upon hearing a woman’s voice, sweet and vaguely ethereal, drifting quietly down from the second floor. Connie froze, tilted her head, and tried her very best to pick up on whatever was being said, but the sound was hushed, and it had a grainy quality to it. A recording, and an old one at that, vividly reminiscent of the old TV shows she and her father would watch on his VCR.

The exact words were almost impossible to pick out, but Connie was fairly certain she had just heard Steven’s name.

Her curiosity piqued, and her nerves beginning to unsettle, Connie crept silently over to the stairs, and climbed slowly up the first few steps. She dared go no farther, suddenly aware of the risk that Steven may catch her eavesdropping. Should she call for him now? Or should she go sit on the couch and pretend she couldn’t hear a thing? Should she swallow down her building disquietude and confront him about whatever secret message he appeared to be listening to? She bit her cheek, and considered her approach.

Information, that’s what she needed. Before proceeding farther, she needed to understand what she was dealing with, whether this was justifiably concerning or simply a gross invasion of Steven’s privacy. Her sense of curiosity overriding her sense of reason, she took a few shallow breaths, crouched low, and listened in. From her position on the stairs, she could hear with more clarity, which only served to cause her anxiety to build, creeping higher and higher with each new word she parsed.

“You’re going to be something extraordinary.”

It was the voice of a stranger, and yet the sincerity behind that statement was almost enough to bring a tear to her eye. Almost.

“You’re going to be a human being.”

A human being? Like herself, and like Greg, and like…

The tape reversed, and she heard it once again.

“You’re going to be a human being.”

And again, this time cutting off the beginning of the sentence.

“… a human being.”

Swallowing down the growing lump in her throat, Connie stood straight and marched up the remaining stairs. Turning the corner, she found Steven sat in front of his television, his finger hovering over the rewind button on the VCR. As soon as she set foot in the room, he whipped round to face her, eyes wide with panic. His face, reddened and riddled with shame, looked to her like the countenance of a person who had been caught in the midst of committing an unthinkably terrible crime.

“C-Connie!” he squeaked, and leapt forward to eject the tape. He stood, grasping it tightly, and promptly hid both his hands behind his back.

“You’re, uh, early!”

“Uh, yeah…” she said, slow and uncertain, “I let myself in, sorry.”

“That’s fine!” he reassured her quickly, then paused.

“Uh, I’ll be down in a second, okay?” he said, slower, yet barely concealing his manic desperation. He glanced about the room, and Connie could only assume that he was looking for a place to hide the item he had so poorly concealed behind his back.

Crossing her arms, she levelled him with a discerning glare, acutely aware of what he was thinking of doing. The moment she left this room he’d consider this matter over and done with, act like nothing had happened, and there’d be no hope of convincing him to speak of it again. Not one to put up with his meagre attempts at dodging the subject, she stood her ground, kept her eyes trained on his, and watched him squirm under her unyielding gaze.

He averted his eyes, shuffled his feet, and took in a deep breath through his nose.

“Uh…”

“What’s the deal with the tape?” she asked, straightforwardly.

“What?”

“The tape you were watching, Steven. I could hear it from downstairs.”

He blanched.

“It’s-” he began, voice taut, then cleared his throat. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing.” She retorted, then backpedalled upon realising how harsh she sounded, pressing her hands to her temples. “Look, I’m not… Okay, it’s personal, I get it. I don’t want to invade your privacy I just-… It seemed like you were really fixated on that one part.”

“Which… part? Wait, how long have you been listening in?!” he asked, incredulous.

“Not long! I just- I got bits and pieces…”

He stared at her for a long moment, an uneasy tension settling over the pair. His brows were knitted together, his lower lip jutting out slightly, and Connie picked up on a hint of betrayal in his expression. She shrank back slightly, starting to feel very ashamed of eavesdropping on what was beginning to sound like an intimately private moment.

Just as she broke eye contact, she heard him heave a heavy sigh.

“It’s from my mom… the tape, it’s a message from my mom,” he said finally, quiet and broken. Bringing his arms out from behind his back, he rapped his fingers against the tape, grasping it with both hands.

“Oh.”

_Oh._

“A-and the part about… being human?” she asked, hesitant to push his boundaries.

His face twisted bitterly, so unlike his usual sunny visage, and he let out a joyless bark of a laugh.

“Hah! Yeah… she was way off, huh?”

“What?”

“You know… about me being a human being?” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Connie’s heart sank in her chest, settling heavily on her gut. She suddenly felt a desperate need to say something, _anything_ that could wipe that terribly sad look off his face, but she couldn’t find the words. He trudged over to his bed and slumped onto it, turning the tape over in his hands.

“She wanted me to be human,” he murmured, “She was so sure I _would_ be… But I’m not. She was so- so in _love_ with the idea of me being a human being! She _loved_ humanity! What-… what if she only had me because she thought I’d be something else?”

He looked to her, eyes pleading and wet, and Connie went instinctively to his side. Settling down on the duvet beside him, she placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Her touch was affectionate, grounding, and she hoped it was enough to remind him how alike they were.

“Steven… do you not think you’re human? That you’re not like me?”

He looked at her, tried very hard to smile, and failed miserably at it.

“No? Sorta? I dunno… You and Dad have this whole ‘human beings’ thing going on,” he said with a flippant wave of his hand, “I- I guess I was never really meant to be a part of that.”

A hot flash of shame struck her, and all at once she regretted every moment, every smug smile, every wretched little high five she had shared in solidarity with Greg Universe. His own father and his best friend, celebrating their similarities, as if he were so drastically different. ‘Human beings’, they had said, as if Steven hadn’t been right there. As if he wasn’t human too.

“Did… did we-… did _I_ make you feel like you weren’t… like you were just some _alien_?” she asked, voice strained.

He floundered for a moment, reluctant to answer truthfully. She could tell, from his fidgeting, and from the guilt written across his features, that he desperately didn’t want to make her feel bad. Nor could he bring himself to lie to her. A ‘yes’ would be too painful, and a ‘no’ would be a lie, so instead he settled for a noncommittal shrug.

“Oh… oh, Steven, that wasn’t supposed to-” she started, but he stopped her.

“No, I get it. It’s not your fault, Connie… I… I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I’m sorry, Steven.”

“No! No, you don’t have to apologise, it’s… there’s more to it than just that, you don’t have to-”

“Well, I _am_ apologising,” she interjected, bringing a hand to her chest, “even if you say I don’t have to. I’m sorry, Steven, for the part I played in making you feel that way.”

He opened his mouth to continue his protest, but seemed to draw a complete blank. After a few moments, he shut it again, turning away and chewing at his lip.

“I still don’t-… I’m not like you, or like Dad… I mean, I’m a gem. My whole life has been about gems, and space, and… war… It just feels like… the more I got involved with gem stuff, the less human I felt.”

He turned to face her, and she saw tragedy in his eyes. Once, they had shone with childlike glee at the prospect of coming into his own as a Crystal Gem. Now, they were dull and weary, fearful of lost humanity.

“I don’t know how to be human,” he said, more broken and lost than she had ever heard him.

Connie gave him a smile, small and sad, removing her hand from his shoulder to caress his cheek.

“That makes two of us.”

“Huh?”

He blinked at her, mouth slightly agape.

“What I mean is, I feel that way too sometimes… Like I’m not very good at being a person. Steven, there are plenty of humans that feel that way. Being ‘human’… it’s such an abstract idea. Don’t you think it’s up to us to decide what that means?”

“I-…” he looked down to the floor, brows slightly raised, lips parted. He chewed the inside of his cheek, sat in contemplative silence, and remained that way for the better part of a minute.

Connie chose to take his silence as a good sign, evidence that she had broken through his carefully guarded walls and supplanted his doubts with something more positive. She looked him over, still lost in thought. Her words were clearly sinking in, but perhaps he needed a more convincing argument to truly hammer it home. Something a little more… Steven.

“Hey…” she murmured, just louder than a whisper, and he turned to face her once more.

Hand still resting on his cheek, she leaned close, slipped her eyes shut, and pressed her lips against his. Her heart thumped hard against her chest, her cheeks were utterly flushed with heat, and for a moment she panicked and wondered if this was really a good idea, after all. But her fears were quickly assuaged when she felt Steven push back, a gentle pressure that let her know he reciprocated her affection. No more than a few seconds went by, and she pulled back, opening her eyes just half a second before Steven opened his. He looked starstruck. Eyes wide, mouth falling open, utterly frazzled, like his brain had been short-circuited and was hastily attempting to re-boot itself.

Despite being sufficiently flustered herself, Connie took this opportunity to reiterate her point, to drive it home whilst his brain was flooded with oxytocin and susceptible to sentimental messages.

“It doesn’t matter whether you’re fully human, or half human, or even a tenth human. You’re human enough for me.”

He smiled at her, a lopsided grin accompanied by adorably pink cheeks, and for the first time that day he couldn’t find it in him to argue.

“Okay.”


	3. Day 3 - Contact

Eye contact, as Connie had often been told by the unnecessary romantic subplots in her Young Adult novels, was a powerful thing.

Locking eyes with your fated partner across a crowded room was supposed leave you transfixed, blocking out the rest of the world in a blurry haze, as if nothing else mattered. Longing stares between star-crossed lovers, yearning and desperate, took great mental fortitude to break, and left one slightly heartbroken at having made the effort. Furtive glances between young, inexperienced suitors, as of yet unable to admit their true feelings, were exhilarating and somewhat uncomfortable all at once. Eye contact created tension, and with tension came an agonising, ardent need for resolution. It was supposed to leave you breathless, enamoured, dizzy even; to conjure up a swarm of butterflies in your stomach and drown you in a deluge of pheromones.

Connie had never much liked romantic stories.

Prolonged eye contact had never been a particularly pleasant experience for her. When a teacher would call on her in class and bore into her with those expectant eyes, or her family physician grilled her on subjects that she considered far too intimate to discuss with her mother present, she’d be overcome with butterflies of an entirely different breed. Unruly and suffocating, fluttering about her insides without a care to the damage they wrought. In those moments, she and her fantastical heroic counterparts at least shared the same reaction; avert your eyes, look to the far corner of the room, and try not to notice the feverish heat rising in your cheeks.

Of course, as a young adult she found eye contact to be fairly manageable. No longer the daunting challenge it once was, she breezily exchanged friendly glances with friend and stranger alike, looked her friends and family right between the eyes as they spoke, didn’t feel the need to divert her attention elsewhere or cast her gaze to the floor in shame when confronting disagreement. It was normal, unremarkable, just another part of her day-to-day life.

With Steven, it was something else entirely.

Connie was fairly certain she was in love with him, or at least that was her best guess. All the tell-tale signs were there; she thought about him all the time, she craved affection from him, and felt giddy with joy when she got it, she often wondered what it would be like to kiss him, properly, and perhaps most importantly of all; she couldn’t imagine what her life would be without him at her side. All feelings she recognised, with a twinge of abashment, from the predictable romantic patterns set out in just about every love story and romantic B-plot she could recall coming into contact with.

What they hadn’t prepared her for was how comfortable it all felt.

As she knew it, romance was supposed to put you on edge. Prospective love interests were never totally comfortable in one another’s presence, all blushing faces and averting eyes, the barest of touches sending electricity up the spine. A confusing, twisting mass of feelings usually accompanied by a complete and utter inability to meet each other’s eye for any significant length of time. And yet, she had never felt that way with him.

Eye contact with Steven wasn’t just easy, it was _comfortable_ , pleasant in a way she had never quite appreciated until she sat down and thought about it. At first, it baffled her. Connie Maheswaran, social anxiety extraordinaire, for whom eye contact had previously been nothing more than a skill to hone and an unpleasant experience to grow accustomed to, actually _enjoyed_ staring into the eyes of another person? It was unheard of, completely unprecedented; yet the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. And when she locked eyes with him, all notions of confusion or doubt washed away as easily as chalk marks in rain.

Laying on his comforter in the late afternoon, with gentle orange light softly falling through the glass, she turned to face him as they lay side by side. She hadn’t said a word, nor had he, and the pair were enveloped by a cosy, serene kind of silence that neither of them felt the need to fill. She met his gaze, and held it close. No tingling nervousness, no pounding hearts, or tension too palpable to bear, just comfort, and safety, and steadfast affection. She smiled, an instinct which she had no desire to control, and he let out a satisfied puff of air through his nostrils, returning the gesture. There they remained, for a long, comfortable moment. Soft amber hues caressed his features, the light catching his irises just-so and bringing deep brown pigmentation out on full display. They were laying just inches apart, and yet she felt no desire to move closer. Connie felt just as much comfort from his gaze alone as she would when he would wrap his arms around her, or lay his head down on her shoulder.

Steven’s eyes didn’t bore into her, or look her over with scrutiny, or cause her heart to do somersaults in her chest; they simply met her at her level, as hers did him. He looked at her as if nothing else in the world mattered, and in that moment, nothing else did.


	4. Day 4 - Alone/Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I combined the prompts this time  
> And just to be clear, Steven and Connie are older in this one (around 19-20 years old), and already dating.

Steven knew Connie had panic attacks. Frequently and with varying severity. He had felt one himself, once, when they were Stevonnie; they had both felt that one. As near as he could tell, it felt like their fight or flight instincts had been activated, unprompted, in the absence of any real physical threat. There was nothing to fight, nothing to flee from, and so the nervous energy coursing through their body at that moment had no release, no direction, no outlet. It simply circulated, amplified, knocked the wind out of their body and settled a heavy weight on their shared chest. Connie liked to be alone when she worked through them, for the most part. When the panic struck her, she would seek out quiet and solitude, a place with plenty of access to fresh air and free of prying eyes and ears. Every time, without fail, he would be reminded of the dance, of how awful it all felt. The memories were fuzzy now, barely coherent and dulled by time; but they were enough to tell him he never wished to feel that way again. Enough to tell him he hated letting her go through it alone.

Still; she’d never ask him to come with her, and never announced her departure. Instead, she would silently slip out, find some hidden sanctuary amongst the commotion, and return to him within the hour. She was calm when she returned, but not with her usual playfully sarcastic demeanour. She laughed a little quieter, smiled just a little less brightly, leaned on him more heavily than usual. Subdued and listless. She wasn’t miserable by any means, but it was obvious to him that it took some sort of toll on her, both emotionally and physically.

He got good at spotting the signs, even if she never asked him to look out for them. No matter how jovial she seemed, how invested in the conversation she may be, or how energetically she was tackling whatever task she had in front of her, when the panic hit, she withdrew. Suddenly, and usually without warning. Often, she’d sit back in her chair and start picking at her lip, or find a wall to slump against and cast her gaze away from the hustle and bustle. Sometimes, her gaze would turn vacant and unfocused, other times she’d become obsessively attuned to every little stimulus in her environment, eyes darting back and forth and head twisting side to side, scanning her surroundings. There were times she could coast through it, maintain her grip on the conversation and ride it out like it was nothing. Failing that, she’d simply duck out for a few minutes and return as if nothing had happened. Other times, she’d be so breathless she could barely speak. More often than not, there’d be tears in her eyes.

There were many ways a panic attack could present itself, a cocktail bar of signs and symptoms mixed and matched seemingly at random, but there was one thing at least, that was consistent. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but no matter where she was, who she was with, how many people were in the room, she looked so… alone.

The people around her were no more than noise machines, obstacles to be avoided and left in the dust as she retreated inwards. He too, was unable to reach her when she got like that. It stung, he had to admit, to see her so unwilling to accept his comfort in her time of need. Hugging was a no-go, as he had been instructed after an embarrassingly misguided attempt to calm her, and he was only to speak to her using yes or no questions. Using small talk to distract her was utterly useless, he had been told, because during a panic attack she needed all her air to go to her lungs or she felt as though she may pass out. When she made her escape outdoors, she would refuse him when he offered his jacket, despite the persistent shake of her hands, and the chill in the air. Eventually he came to believe that, in the throes of a panic attack, his presence was no more than a nuisance. She was better off dealing with it alone.

Then came the day he was proven wrong.

Lars was back on Earth, if only temporarily, and the Cool Kids (still so-called even though they were now young adults), along with Steven, agreed that it would be the perfect opportunity for a get-together. After a long debate, and several absurdly ambitious suggestions that were given a concerning amount of earnest thought until vetoed by Lars, the group settled on a simple dinner outing. When he asked if he could invite Connie along, Steven was met with unanimous approval. The restaurant had a charming atmosphere, or at least he thought it did, with its dark wooden interiors and lights strung up among the rafters. Artificial ivy clung to the walls and wound round the wooden columns, and placid instrumentals hummed quietly from the speakers. The food was good, if a little overpriced, but the ambience more than made up for it. The others didn’t seem to pay as much attention to their surroundings, instead choosing to fill their air with boisterous chatter and roaring laughter. Steven found it superbly easy to settle into the conversation, and as far as he could tell, Connie was taking it all in stride. She laughed and chattered and reminisced along with the others, but he made sure to check in every now and then, just to be safe. By the time dessert arrived, the bustling energy of the group had simmered down and settled into a carefree buzz.

Engaged in conversation with a slightly drunken Lars, Steven found himself increasingly absorbed in a tipsy, easy-going haze. It didn’t hurt that the Cool Kids had been allowing him to sip from their glasses throughout the evening. He wasn’t drunk by any definition of the word, but he’d be hard pressed to describe himself as sober, and his situational awareness had taken a hit. Thoroughly enjoying himself, and only slightly fuzzy headed, he realised it had been over half an hour since he checked in on Connie.

“Yeah, hold that thought,” he said to Lars, whose stories were starting to become disjointed and nonsensical.

He turned to Connie, who had been sitting directly across from him, and was immediately sobered by the sight he was greeted with. With her hands pressed to her temples, and her elbows resting on the table, she stared down at the wood, eyes wide and breath quickening with each second. He paused, scanned the room, and saw that nobody else was paying her any mind. He wasted no time in leaning over the table and whispering her name.

“Connie.”

She looked up, head still grasped between her hands.

“You wanna go outside? Get some air?”

She offered him a terse nod, then stood immediately, as if she had been waiting for permission. He rounded the side of the table to be at her side, and ushered her through the crowd with a hand placed gently on her back. Once outside, she all but collapsed onto the steps leading to the entrance, taking a series of carefully measured breaths.

Steven stood, shuffled his feet, clenched and unclenched his fists a few times and tried not to pay attention to how chilly the evening air was. Experience had taught him that he was useless in these situations; there wasn’t a single thing he could do to help, and everything he tried was likely to make it worse. Panic attacks were a lonely, lonely experience, and they didn’t leave room for the comfort of an overbearing boyfriend. He looked over to Connie, who tilted her head back and let out a slow, misty breath. She caught him looking, and patted the stone next to her.

“Sit,” was all she managed to say.

He sat down on the stone, instantly noticing the way the cold seeped through his clothes, ensuring he maintained a careful distance. Connie shot him a perplexed look, then hurriedly gestured for him to sit closer. He obliged, shuffling closer, then shuffled again when she indicated she wanted him even closer. She only seemed content when he sat close enough for their shoulders to touch, and turned her gaze back to the middle distance.

“It’s cold,” he said quietly, “should I go get your jacket?”

She shook her head, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’m not cold. Actually…” she paused, took a breath, “I’m too hot.”

“You’re shaking.”

“Not from the cold.”

He nodded, swallowed hard, then turned his gaze to the floor. Nothing he could do now but wait. Time creeped forward slowly, and by the time Connie felt well enough to talk again he swore it had been at least an hour. In reality, they had only been sitting outside for around fifteen minutes. Standing at last, she smiled wearily down at him.

“Okay, I think I… we can go back inside. Thanks for sitting with me.”

“Can I hug you now?”

She giggled, and he couldn’t help but smile in response.

“Of course.”

He pulled himself up from the freezing stone and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest, and felt a wave of relief wash over him when she returned the gesture.

“I hate seeing you like that,” he murmured, and she pulled back to look him in the face.

“Why?” she asked, as if that were a sensible question. The answer was obvious, and he knew she was smart enough to have already figured it out.

“Well, first of all, it’s an awful thing to go through…” he paused, heaved a defeated sigh, “The fact that I can’t even do anything to help makes it ten times worse.”

“What?” She tilted her head, quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I mean, right? I can’t-”

“Why do you think I asked you to sit so close to me, dummy?” she interjected, a placid smile on her lips.

“Because it’s cold as heck out here?”

“No!” she said with a tired laugh, “Steven, having you close to me makes me feel better. I mean, yeah, you can’t hug me, and we can’t really talk to each other but… I dunno… at least I know I’m not alone.”

“Me being there… helps?” he asked slowly, feeling a small swell of pride.

“Well, yeah. Everything’s better when you’re there. You make me feel… safe, I guess.”

He let out a thoughtful hum, then grasped her hands in his.

“Geez, you’re freezing!”

“Well yeah! We’ve been sitting out in the cold!” she exclaimed, then slipped her hands under the bottom of his shirt, pressing her icy digits against his warm skin. He squealed, drawing a sharp breath in through his teeth.

“Connie!” he squeaked indignantly.

“What? I’m siphoning your body heat, that’s my right as your girlfriend!”

“Or,” he said, grasping her hands in his own and removing them from under his clothes, “we could go inside? You know, where they have central heating?”

“Alright,” she conceded with a playful roll of her eyes, “but this time we’re sitting next to each other.”

“What, so you can ‘siphon my body heat’?”

“Nah, just because I like you.”

Letting out an amused huff, and smiling warmly, Steven swung his arm over Connie’s shoulder. The two of them steadily made their way back to their table, where their absence had clearly been noticed. Upon returning they were greeted by a drunken chorus of playful jeers and highly inappropriate accusations, causing them both to flush and avert eye contact. The evening continued on, and Steven remained glued to Connie’s side throughout it all. Even if she didn’t need him there, even if she was perfectly capable of managing by herself.

Everything was simply better when they were together.


	5. Day 5 - Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this is an older Steven and Connie story, set when they're already dating.

Steven was good at driving. Very, very good at driving.

Connie couldn’t be sure whether their experiences as Stevonnie had any part to play in that, but as far as she was concerned, he was an expert in his own right, with skills to rival most professional stunt drivers. When they hit some remote stretch of road late in the evening, flanked by thick forest and rocky coasts, he would bring his foot down on the acceleration and carefully edge the Dondai a few measures above the speed limit. Fast enough to make the engine hum a little louder, and to send a shot of adrenaline coursing through her blood, but never so fast that she feared he would lose control. When he was sure the roads were free of other vehicles, and that they were invisible to police surveillance, he’d drift round the corners in a sweeping arc, focus sharp and hands shifting effortlessly though precise movements to keep the vehicle in line. Connie knew what it felt like to pull off these manoeuvres, had played her part as Stevonnie, and she understood the mechanics behind them well enough to see how perfectly he performed them. He’d never gloat, despite being confident in his own abilities, but in the presence of a potential rival she was more than happy to step in and talk him up until he was red in the face.

Sometimes, she would roll down the window and lean out, feeling the rushing air whipping against her face and laughing giddily into the wind, hair thrashing wildly behind her. She never tired of the thrill, the pure elation of releasing her inhibitions and losing herself in the rush of a high-speed joy ride with her trusted partner at the helm. Connie had total faith in him; never feared for her safety, or the safety of any other. She knew Steven was well practiced, and that he would never attempt a trick that he hadn’t perfected with somebody else in the passenger’s seat. And besides, he was a healer. If she did somehow wind up with an injury or two, he’d be on hand to patch her up, good as new.

That being said, most of their shared rides were relatively laid back; purposeless journeys which they embarked upon for no reason other than to enjoy each other’s company. The Dondai would cruise along at a steady pace, and Steven would put on a carefully crafted mixtape, and they were free to go wherever or do whatever they wished. On multiple occasions they would break out into song, drowning out the car radio as they belted out a medley of classic rock anthems and rousing ballads. On others they would turn the music down low and talk for hours on end. Late in the night, they would fall into a comfortable silence, and Connie would watch the world pass her by, staring out at the moonlight reflecting on the bay or searching the stars for constellations as Steven hummed absently at the wheel.

It was on one such drive that Connie, on a whim, turned to Steven and made a suggestion.

“Think you could drift round the upcoming bend?” she asked, knowing the route well enough to anticipate the twists and turns it would take before they came into view.

“You know I _could_ ,” he said, without taking his eyes off the road “what you’re really asking is if I _will_.”

“ _Will_ you?” she asked again, with a spirited impatience to her voice.

He glanced at her, expression blank and unreadable, then looked back at the road and let out a thoughtful hum.

“Well?” she pressed.

He turned to face her again, and a mischievous grin split across his features.

“You’re a bad influence, Miss Maheswaran,” he teased, then pushed down on the accelerator.

Grasping the stick and shifting gears, he approached the bend, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth and his brows furrowed in concentration. There were many ways to induce oversteer (which was required for drifting), and Connie could list them off the top of her head, but Steven’s preferred method was the power slide, achieved by sharply accelerating halfway around the bend. Turning towards the inside of the curve, he slammed his foot down on the gas upon reaching the middle of his arc, applying just the right amount of throttle to break traction and bring round the back of the car. The tires screeched against the tarmac, and the car rounded the bend in a sideways arc.

Helpless to contain her glee, Connie whooped and hollered as Steven hastily spun the steering wheel in the opposite direction, sustaining the drift by carefully balancing the throttle and ensuring the back wheels kept spinning. Nearing the end of the bend, he eased off the power and span the steering wheel rapidly back into the forward position. The Dondai fishtailed slightly, its back end swinging back and forth with lessening severity as Steven hastily corrected his course, keeping his grip firm and bringing the car expertly back onto the straight and narrow.

Connie cheered, and Steven released a shaky breath. As confident as he could be with his driving, pulling off a stunt like that would always leave him slightly shaken. He wasn’t exactly an adrenaline junkie himself, but he was always willing to indulge Connie’s thrill-seeking tendencies.

“Hoooh… that was…” he breathed, voice taut and a nervous laugh escaping his lips.

“Amazing?” Connie added, finishing his sentence before he could insert something self-critical.

He smiled, slipped back into his swaggering demeanour.

“Pfft, told you I could do it.”

The road they found themselves on now was almost perfectly straight, stretching off into the distance and enclosed on both sides by towering trees and thick underbrush. For a moment, Steven seemed to let his guard down, turned to face Connie without looking ahead. As near as either of them could tell, they were alone, without any other vehicles in sight. She too, took her eyes off the road, and they met each other’s gazes, just for a moment. Neither of them anticipated any trouble, out here amongst the silent forests and deserted roads.

Connie broke eye contact first, and Steven cast his gaze ahead just a fraction of a second later, but by that time it was already too late.

Something burst out of the thicket, brown and gangly, and dashed out in front of the car. Steven shrieked and slammed on the brakes with as much force as he could, and Connie braced herself against the dashboard, then heard a sickening thud as the creature slammed against the front of the vehicle. The pair watched in horror as the unsuspecting animal was sent skidding across the asphalt, tumbling like a ragdoll. The car screeched to a halt, and the deer, now illuminated by the headlights, lay in a heap a few feet ahead. Still trembling from the shock, Connie shook her head and steadied her breathing. Her heart pounded against her chest, and her head was spinning, but she managed to gather enough composure to lean back into her seat and check up on Steven.

“Hey, you alri-,” she began, turning to face him. Her breath caught in her throat, and she found herself unable to finish her sentence.

His entire body had tensed, his back straight and pressed firmly against the seat, and his grip on the wheel had tightened like a vice, white-knuckled and unmoving. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and in the dim light Connie could see his eyes, blown wide open and staring unflinchingly ahead, welling up with tears. His jaw was clamped firmly shut, but he managed to ease it open just enough to eke out a few broken words.

“Is it dead?”

Connie looked to the deer, laying still in the road, then back to Steven, shell-shocked and riddled with guilt.

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted.

Upon hearing those words, he found the will to move, hastily undoing his seatbelt and flinging open the door so quickly that it bounced against its joints.

“Wait!” she called after him desperately.

Connie followed suit, acting on pure instinct, and rushed over to grasp Steven’s arm and prevent him from going to the creature’s side. He stopped in his tracks, which she understood to be an intentional choice on his part, given his supernatural strength. She had no hopes of physically restraining him, but her touch was enough to communicate to him that she needed him to stop. She moved in front of him, between him and the mangled animal just a couple feet ahead, and cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look her in the face.

She held his gaze, and spoke softly.

“Don’t look at it. You don’t have to look at it. I’ll go see if it’s alive or not, okay?”

He nodded, sniffled, then took a step back and turned around. Even with his back turned, Connie could tell he was chewing at his fingernails, a nervous habit that only presented itself in dire situations.

Hesitantly, she approached the deer. It was a doe, as far as she could tell, and a young one at that. It pained her heart to see an animal so young in this state, but she quickly reminded herself that was probably nothing compared to how Steven must be feeling. She only had to take a few more steps forward to see that one of its limbs was no longer aligned properly, bending at the joint in the wrong direction. She moved in closer, kneeled down next to the head, and took note of the blood dribbling from its mouth. An unpleasant sight, but nowhere near as gruesome as she had expected.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Steven called out to her, his back still turned.

“Is it bad?”

“Uh… there’s not much blood… It doesn’t look that bad.” She watched it closely, monitored its chest for the distinctive rise and fall of living lungs, looked into its beady eyes, and found nothing but dark, unfocused irises. It didn’t breathe, nor did it blink.

She tried to break the news as gently as possible, but there was no way to soften the blow.

“It’s… dead.”

“Oh no… no, no, no…” Steven lamented, and he sounded like he was on the verge of sobbing.

“I think it… I think it got hit on the head. It probably died right away,” she said as she rose to her feet, trying desperately to provide him some shred of reassurance.

He turned to face her, biting down on his thumb. She took a risk, and beckoned him over, extending her hand outward for him to grasp. He took hold of it, and she led him over to the opposite side of the corpse, where his view of the blood and the broken limb would hopefully be obscured. He lowered himself down into his knees, and Connie, still holding tightly onto his hand, kneeled beside him.

“I-… I thought that maybe, if it were still alive…” he started, voice tapering off into silence.

“That you could heal it, I know.”

He sighed, wiped his eyes with his palm, and then froze. His eyes darted back and forth between the deer and his hand, now wet with tears. It only took a moment for Connie to connect the dots.

“Steven.”

He flinched, and words began spilling frantically from his mouth.

“I- I was just- I wasn’t gonna do it! I was just thinking-”

“Steven, it’s okay, I wasn’t going to tell you not to.”

“What?” he gaped, blinking away his tears.

“It’s your power, you can use it however you want. I know you want to do the right thing, but you need to think about what you’re doing first.”

He turned his gaze back to the doe. Dead, but only recently departed, and still carrying the warmth of life.

“Lion…” He murmured, “Mom brought him back to life and he’s… I think he’s really old. Older than any other lion. And Lars… I brought him back and now… now he’s…”

“I know,” she said, cutting him off before he could spiral into a dark place.

He had confided in her once, about the complicated feelings he had surrounding Lars’ resurrection, as well as his suspicions regarding Lion’s true age. He had told her, tearfully, that he wasn’t sure whether Lars was truly human anymore. He feared, deep down, that he had somehow stolen his humanity from him.

Connie pondered their situation, turned it over in her mind, examining it in terms of philosophy, and of scientific understanding. What makes a human a human, and what makes a deer a deer? Is Lars still human, despite his circumstances? If Steven revived it now, would this deer still be a deer? How could it be anything _other_ than a deer? And if the deer _was_ still a deer, and Lion was still a lion, how could Lars be anything _but_ human?

She sighed. Neither she nor Steven had the answers to those questions. Turning to face him, she found him staring down at his hands. He was faced with a difficult choice, another creature for whom he was the final arbiter of life or death. She couldn’t begin to imagine the weight of that responsibility, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he would be better off without those damned life-giving tears.

“You know,” she began, wrapping a supportive arm around his shoulders, “an immortal magic deer roaming the woods near Beach City could make for a pretty cool folk legend.”

He looked at her, smiled, and managed to force out a surprisingly genuine chuckle.

“Yeah. It could.”

He looked utterly defeated, and something about the sadness in his eyes told her he had already made his decision. She cupped his face softly, kissed him, and then pulled him to his feet.

“Come on, let’s go home. I’m gonna stay at your place tonight.”

Steven nodded, then looked once more at the unfortunate creature laying in front of him.

“We should move her out of the road, at least.”

The journey home was quiet, coloured by a potent melancholy. Through the trees, across the cliffs, and on the route back to Beach City, Steven never once glanced at his passenger, focused squarely on the road stretching out in front of him. Connie took to counting potholes, and at some point, turned on the radio to fill the silence, though neither of them felt much like singing. They arrived at the beach house, weary and despondent, and crawled into bed with heavy eyes and heavier hearts. Steven fell asleep that night with his face buried in the crook of her neck, and Connie remained awake for nearly an hour thereafter, listening to his steady breathing, feeling the constant rhythm of his heart, taking in the warmth of his living form.

Somewhere in the woods, underneath the starry sky, a fawn lay motionless in a moonlit clearing, encircled by a halo of perfect yellow flowers.


	6. Day 6 - Sword & Shield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness, but I WILL be finishing Jam Week  
> The last prompt just needs more time, I really want to make it good  
> Also this is set a while after CYM, so they're still just kiddos haha

“Do you ever wish you had a different weapon?” Connie asked as she lifted her blade to the sun and watched the light reflecting off its surface.

It was a lazy summer’s day, and she and Steven sat side by side on the beach in front of the temple. The two of them had fallen into a comfortable silence, and Connie had taken to inspecting her sword as Steven drew shapes in the sand absentmindedly. The glint of her blade caught the attention of Lion, who was lounging beside the pair, long mane tousled by the salty breeze.

“Nah”, Steven answered quickly, without raising his head, “I like my shield. Why?”

“Don’t you ever get sick of playing defence all the time?”

He looked up, half-finished doodles forgotten in the sand as he shifted, straightening his back.

“Nope!” he answered again, “Do you get sick of playing offense?”

“Not really, I was just thinking about how cool your shield is,” she admitted, resting her sword carefully across her lap.

“What? Pfft, no way!” he said with a wave of his hand, “Your sword is way cooler.”

“But you can throw your shield!” she rebutted, mimicking the motion, “I can’t use my sword for long range attacks!”

“And I can’t attack up close!”

“Maybe not, but you can use your shield outside of combat too. Like as an umbrella.”

Connie recalled the times Steven had sheltered her from the rain, and the way the soft pink light illuminated their features in the gloom. So typical of him, she mused, to use his supernatural abilities for something so mundane.

“You can use a sword for things other than fighting!”

“How?”

“Uh… to cut vegetables?”

He framed it as a suggestion, pressing his finger to his chin and turning his gaze to the sky.

“It’s easier to just use a knife for that. Believe me, I tried,” she said with a wince, recalling how unwieldy the long blade had been, and how close she came to losing a finger, “it didn’t go very well.”

“Okay, but…” he paused and thought for a moment, “What about cutting through vines and stuff, or uh… Stevonnie used it to shave their facial hair once!”

“Only because we didn’t have a razor,” she pointed out with a raised finger.

“If it works, it works!”

He grinned at her, bright and sincere, and managed to get a smile out of her. She raised her hands in defeat, forced to accept defeat in the face of his boundless optimism.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you that one. But you can use your shield for so much more! Like, hmm… you can carry stuff in it, you can use it to cook things, uh…”

She paused and raised her hand to her chin, trying to recall another of the many unconventional uses Steven had devised at one point or another. For something that many would view as nothing more than a defensive barrier, he managed to find so many creative ways to use it outside of battle. She had to admit it made her slightly jealous, what with combat being the only thing she could think of using her own weapon for.

“And your sword can slice through a bamboo pole like it’s nothing,” Steven added, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“That’s all Bismuth,” she said quickly.

The blade’s remarkable sharpness certainly was a testament to the skill of its crafter. Connie was truly grateful for that, it made it that much easier to wield effectively. But surely there was more to a blade than how sharp it was? And surely there was more to Steven’s shield than there was to her sword?

“Everything you’ve said so far is basically an extension of the same function. Swords are only good for slicing things, I guess…” she said with a shrug, voice coming out quieter and more despondent than she had intended.

“Well…” Steven said slowly, then looked to the pink mass of fur splayed out on the sand, “Lion likes it when you use it like a laser pointer.”

Connie raised her sword high, catching the sun and sending a streak of concentrated light dancing across the sand, waving back and forth with each flick of her wrist. Lion raised his head, eyes following the bouncing line with keen interest and his tail flicking to-and-fro. She stilled her hand, and he lazily swiped his paw at the light. Steven chuckled, and the feline’s lumbering antics put an affectionate smile on Connie’s face.

“Still…” she began, setting her weapon down on the sand next to her, “I think we can conclude your shield is objectively cooler, based on the evidence.”

As far as Connie was concerned, the way Steven used it, a shield was a tool. Useful in combat for both offense and defence, and useful outside of battle for any number of other things, given the owner had a creative mind; and if there was one thing Steven was good at, it was thinking outside the box. The sword, on the other hand, was a weapon, a means for harming others. It was made for attacking and subduing opponents in the midst of violent conflict, and no more.

“Nah, your sword is cooler,” Steven said, leaning back on his hands and clearly eager to keep the discussion going.

“But you can summon multiple shields!” Connie blurted out, barely concealing her envy, “I only get one sword, and it can’t-”

“No, no,” Steven cut her off, “the sword isn’t cool because of how many things you can do with it. It’s cool because you use it so well. The sword doesn’t make _you_ cool, Connie, you’re the one that makes the _sword_ cool.”

She paused, and her shoulders went slack. She hadn’t even realised that they were tense.

“Really?”

“Yeah!” he chirped, eyes practically glittering with admiration, “You can take down a whole army of holo-Pearls like it’s nothing! You can do all those flips and spins and- oh! It’s really cool when you do that sliding thing, remember that time you slid between Pearl’s legs and caught her off guard?”

“And then we charged at her from both sides,” Connie added with a smirk, “Yeah, I guess that was pretty cool.”

“See?” he said, “I’m hopeless with swordplay, but you make it look so easy.”

Connie flushed. Steven’s sheer adoration of her and her skills was on full display now, in the tone of his voice and his eager gesticulation as he spoke. His eyes, too, were so full of stars that it was almost blinding to meet his gaze.

“I could say the same for your shield,” she said, attempting to shift the focus of the conversation.

Her words, though she intended them as a diversion, were as genuine as could be. She recalled the many ways he had defended her, the things he had defended her from, with that very shield. The way he managed to summon it so effortlessly, the way he never seemed to lose his cool when facing down his foes. Connie’s sword, in her fallible hands, was liable to tremble and slip, but Steven’s shield was steadfast, bolstered by a supernatural strength she could never hope to match.

Steven tilted his head, his expression shifting from starry-eyed and eager to something more tender.

“I mean it, Connie, you’re… really amazing, and you’re the best sword fighter I know,” he said fondly, “Who cares which is better. Sword, shield, whatever. None of that matters. We’re a team!”

“So… you’re saying that Stevonnie is the coolest one?” she responded, raising her eyebrows, “They get to have both.”

“I’m saying _we’re_ the coolest, you and me together. Sword and shield, strawberry and biscuit. Stevonnie or no Stevonnie.”

Connie sat back, closed her eyes and pushed a huff of air through her nose. Steven wasn’t the most effective at debating politics, or at discussing the underlying social commentaries in classic literature, or at convincing her to like the ending of Unfamiliar Familiar, but when it came to matters of the heart, she could never prove him wrong.

“Can’t argue with that,” she conceded with a smile. Perhaps the entire discussion had been pointless, and perhaps trying to figure out which weapon was ‘superior’ was the incorrect approach altogether.

“The sword and shield work best as a set, after all.”


	7. Day 7 - Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy... it's been a while, huh?  
> Yeah I know, Jam Week ended approximately a decade or so ago, but I wanted to finish it  
> Just for the record, I got the idea for this fic BEFORE Together Forever aired, and before the leak revealed the events of that episode (I swear XD)  
> So yeah, it sat untouched for a while and I'm more than a little rusty, but I hope you enjoy it regardless of its imperfections

Connie was going to propose. She wasn’t sure when, or how, or where, but she had the ring, and the blessings of her family. All she needed now was the perfect place, and the perfect moment.

Oh, and the courage to pop the question.

Naturally, Steven was the romantic one, grand gestures of affection were simply the norm when it came to their relationship. He wrote songs for her, he bought her expensive gifts (albeit usually using his father’s money), he made her breakfast in bed, took her on excursions to exotic and otherworldly places all across the galaxy. For someone who couldn’t even work up the nerve to initiate their first kiss, he was a proactive partner, and he wasn’t shy about expressing his affection with gestures both big and small.

Connie, on the other hand, struggled with romance. Not in the sense that she didn’t understand or appreciate it, in fact, she greatly enjoyed each and every one of Steven’s spontaneous gestures of love. Rather, she never quite knew how to reciprocate. She’d try to come up with some romantic surprise, or to compose a sentimental speech, but she’d either end up drawing a total blank or feel too embarrassed to ever follow through. Steven told her he didn’t mind, he loved spoiling her and he never expected her to spoil him back. She was the protector, and he was the schmaltzy, lovey-dovey one, but there comes a day in every champion’s life that they feel compelled to dip their toes into the waters of knightly courtship. At present the game was stacked disproportionately in Steven’s favour, so she’d need something big if she had any hope of catching up to him.

‘A marriage proposal ought to do it,’ she thought with a grin as she admired the ring between her fingers.

Greg had been the first person she’d told. As expected, he was overjoyed, nearly crushing her in a gleeful bear hug and immediately offering to pay for the ring. She had tried to turn him down, but he was insistent, and eventually she agreed to let him cover 75% of the cost with the caveat that he contribute to the wedding fund (by his own insistence). She had tried to reduce his payment to 50%, but a kind gesture from Greg Universe was near impossible to turn down.

Pearl was next in line to be told, after the ring had been chosen and purchased. A band of rose gold with intricate floral designs inlaid with sterling silver, encased in a black velvet ring box. She, like Greg, had been overjoyed to the point of tears. However, something about her initial reaction set alarm bells ringing in Connie’s head. It was only there for a moment, but she could have sworn she saw abject confusion cross her teacher’s face upon first hearing the news. The worrisome expression was quickly replaced by joy and barely contained excitement, and Connie’s uncertainty was quickly forgotten as Pearl examined the ring with motherly appreciation.

“Oh Connie,” she had sighed, eyes wet, “You’re going to make him so happy with this.”

“That’s the plan, ma’am,” Connie returned with a smug grin.

It was then that Garnet and Amethyst had appeared, and promptly rejoiced upon hearing the news. However, when Amethyst snickered and remarked, “This should be good,” Connie once again found herself feeling a twinge of concern. The conversation moved on before she could challenge her comment.

“Any idea of when or where?” asked Pearl.

“Well-” she had begun to answer, but was stopped by Garnet, who placed a hand on her shoulder with a knowing smile.

“Just wait. The moment will come.”

Connie quirked a brow, but stood down and deferred to Garnet’s wisdom. It wasn’t like she had any concrete plans anyway, and she figured it would be a good idea to listen to her, seeing as she had the ability to predict the future and all. Not only that, but Garnet was the literal embodiment of romantic love; Ruby and Sapphire’s commitment to one another made physical. She was probably a reliable source of wisdom.

Right?

She let out a thoughtful hum, rotating the band in her fingers and allowing it to catch the dim moonlight shining through her bedroom window. It was probably a risky move, to fondly examine an engagement ring whilst her would-be fiancée dozed blissfully by her side, but Connie felt no need to be sly. If he were to perhaps wake up and catch a glimpse of it, she’d just ask him to marry her then and there, and there’d be nothing more to worry about.

Steven stirred, and she instinctively hid away the ring with a practiced movement. Maybe not. He deserved something more than that, didn’t he?

“You okay?” he murmured sleepily, without so much as opening his eyes.

“More than okay, I was just thinking about something,” Connie answered, then nestled down under the covers. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Nah,” he said, and she knew he was lying. “What were you thinking about?”

She opened her mouth, and just barely stopped herself from telling him she was thinking about marrying him.

“Nothing, go back to sleep.”

He tried to protest, but his sleep addled brain was hopeless to retain his train of thought as she leaned over and pressed her lips against his, lingering just long enough to feel him smile against her. Gracefully taking that as his cue to cease his interrogation, he wrapped an arm around her waist and buried his face into her shoulder with a long yawn. Before long he was back to sleep, his chest rising and falling with a familiar, steady rhythm, and Connie was left alone with her thoughts once more.

Perhaps it would be best to follow Garnet’s advice and play the waiting game. Surely her cryptic comment had meant she had seen something with that ability of hers? Some miraculous opportunity for spontaneous romance, the likes of which Steven had taken advantage of many times before her. But when that opportunity came, would she see it? Or would it pass her by? Could she really be relied upon to make that judgement call?

Connie shut her eyes and shook her head. If she were to lie awake all night her thoughts were bound to run in circles and shake her resolve. Instead she huddled close to her partner, settled into his embrace and allowed herself to drift away.

She didn’t have to wait long to identify her chance. The next morning, in fact, Steven made a suggestion, an she was present with an opportunity that she just couldn’t pass up.

“I just feel like we haven’t done anything special in a while, you know?” he had said over breakfast, without meeting her eye, his cheeks dusted with a subtle pink hue. “You’re not busy next Tuesday are you?”

“No, you wanna do something?”

He looked up at her with a grin, and she saw a twinkle in his eye.

“Leave it to me, I want it to be a surprise.”

Connie shot him a grin of her own, ever so slightly smug. Whatever surprise he had in mind would surely pale in comparison to what she had up her sleeve. Steven was sure to make it special, perfectly romantic and immensely personal, as always. Here was her chance, to co-opt his dreamy set-up and use it as a vehicle for her proposal. It was a slightly underhanded tactic, she had to admit, but she was playing at a disadvantage, and what was that old saying again? All’s fair in love and war? What better way to ensure that her proposal was perfectly suited to his tastes than to allow _him_ to choose the setting?

Next Tuesday. That would be the day. No backing down, no second guessing; Connie Maheswaran was going to propose, and she could only hope that she had chosen her moment well.

She went shopping that day, somehow found herself in the dressing room juggling a myriad of clothing options and scrutinising each and every outfit with a discerning eye. The audience, model and judge all in one. Choosing her clothing was usually a quick and painless affair, but today was different. Suddenly, a totally mundane task had become so unbearably significant. She was so terribly critical of each and every outfit, despite knowing Steven was far too kind to criticise anything she chose to wear. It was always the same reaction with him; he’d tell her it was perfect, that _she_ was perfect. Sometimes she would even believe him.

Perhaps it was best to simply pick out whichever items happened to catch her eye and present him with her most authentic self. Confident, comfortable, natural; no pretences or false veneers or pretending to be the perfect in the way society demanded a woman should be.

With a dozen discarded garments at her feet, she eventually settled on a dress. Teal, with an embellished sun top bodice and flowing chiffon skirt that fell just below her knees. It was light and airy, even in the stale air of the dressing room, and would seemingly hang in the air as she twirled in place. Experimentally, she pinched the fabric between her fingers, lifted it up and allowed it to gracefully float back down and come to rest against her legs. The front of the bodice was adorned with rhinestones arranged in delicate, sweeping patterns, and when they caught the light just-so Connie felt a girlish glee she hadn’t known she still possessed bubble up inside her chest. It was much more extravagant than her usual apparel, but if there were ever a moment to indulge herself, it was now. She changed back into her own clothes, and for the sake of her own sanity chose to ignore the price tag as she hurriedly gathered her things and headed to the checkout. Before the day was over, she had picked out a pair of shoes to match; open-toed heels, silver, with a not-so-subtle sparkle to them.

Connie had never imagined herself to be the glitz and glamour type, but once she had let go of her reservations and allowed herself to indulge her inner magpie, she found herself rather captivated by all manner of sparkly adornments. Dresses with sequins sewn into the fabric, strappy heels covered in glitter, rhinestones and glass jewellery, it all seemed to reflect the light in such wonderful ways. If you paid close attention, you could see an array of colours flickering and flashing as the light refracted and danced across the surface. From a purely scientific perspective, it was fascinating. From the perspective of a woman seeking to dazzle her soon-to-be fiancée, it was simply enchanting.

After that the days went by at a painfully sluggish pace, and with each passing moment Connie became more and more impatient. Steven himself seemed oblivious to her machinations, which she initially supposed was a good sign, but it became increasingly clear that he was preoccupied with something else. Something that had made him just as nervous as she was. He frequently made spontaneous trips to ‘the store’ and returned empty-handed, or excused himself from the room when taking calls, making sure to lower his voice so as to prevent her from hearing. It made her uneasy, but there was something else in the air, a buzzing energy, and a sense of nervous anticipation that told her she wasn’t supposed to broach the subject. In the evenings, when they collapsed onto the sofa and settled into each other’s arms, he looked at her with the same doting gaze he always had, and it was enough to assure her he had no ill intentions.

He was planning something big, and she was becoming increasingly uncertain of her ability to top whatever surprise he had in store for her.

The day came, and Steven awoke with a spring in his step and a mischievous grin glued to his face. Before Connie even had the time to rub the sleep out of her eyes, he had pecked her on the cheek and pranced out the front door with a promise to return by evening time.

“Make sure you’re ready before I come pick you up!” he had called cheerfully before the door clicked shut.

Dazed, nervous and still a little sleepy, Connie pulled herself out of bed and set about preparing herself for the evening ahead. She made sure to keep the ring on her person, occasionally flicking open the box just make absolutely sure it hadn’t disappeared since the last time she checked. She went over her speech, pre-written in her phone’s notes app during many a sleepless night. She paced back and forth across the floor, mouthing the words to herself and trying not to focus on how unbearably sappy it sounded. The entire day spent mentally preparing herself to ask a single, simple question.

“Steven Quartz Universe, will you marry me?”

As the sun began to set, she slipped on her dress and unboxed her shoes for the first time since bringing them home. The hair that usually framed her face had been gathered and tied at the back, leaving the underlayers to flow freely over her shoulders, just reaching her collarbone.

Steven returned, just as she found herself staring down her own reflection looking for flaws to correct. She didn’t manage to find any, with him barging in so soon and freezing in place as soon as he caught a glimpse of her.

“Uh… wow.”

Connie turned to face him, and her breath caught in her throat.

There he stood, blinking at her, face all flushed, as if the wind had been knocked out of him. She couldn’t help but feel a small rush of self-satisfaction at knowing that seeing her was enough to illicit that reaction. A moment later she noticed his outfit. Black slacks, with a pale pink dress shirt and a smart black blazer. Understated, but effective, and perfectly tailored to his build. He straightened up and nervously fiddled with the end of his sleeve.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “It’s just… you look amazing.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, but Connie maintained her composure, and stepped closer to adjust his collar.

“I could say the same for you,” she said, smoothing down his lapels and taking immense satisfaction in the way his face reddened. He let out a chuckle, swallowed nervously.

“Uh, shall we get going?” he asked, gesturing towards the door.

She grinned, and immediately grasped his hand in hers.

“Lead the way!”

* * *

A short drive and a hop onto a warp pad later, and Connie found herself off-planet. Space travel wasn’t exactly a big deal with all of Homeworld’s resources at their beck and call, but she still managed to find it impressive how far they could travel in so little time. Upon arriving at their destination, she was immediately struck by a feeling of remembrance.

“Is this a moon base?” she asked, stepping off the warp pad and glancing around the chamber, its walls lined with intricate murals depicting the Diamonds in all their authoritative glory.

“It’s _the_ moon base” Steven corrected, “We’re on Earth’s moon.”

It was different to the one she had seen as Stevonnie; this one was in perfect condition, and seemingly untouched by its age.

“Wait, I thought you had to use Lion to warp here,” she remarked as he led her towards the stairs.

“I uh… I got a warp pad installed,” he admitted, scratching at the back of his head.

Connie let out a thoughtful hum, and briefly considered teasing him for his total lack of subtlety, but she chose to keep her mouth shut as the two of them made their way to the top of the winding staircase. She shoved her free hand into her jacket pocket, loosely grasping the ring box and rubbing circles into the velvet with her index finger.

When they reached the top of the tower, she found her breath catching for the second time that day. The console that should have been in the centre of the room had been removed, as well as the massive throne, leaving behind a pristine, open space; the centre of which had now been adorned with all manner of blankets and pillows. A number of tealights had been arranged in a loose circle around the bedding, tiny flames flickering and casting rings of amber light onto the floor. Lining the walls of the dome were dozens of plant pots, varying in size and colour and containing all manner of flowers and succulents in hues of blue and pink and green. Connie couldn’t help but notice the absence of roses. Above her head, through the polished glass, she was provided with a perfect view of the galaxy she called home. A billion twinkling lights sprinkled across a blanket of darkness, deep blues and purples streaking across the sky. And from where she stood, she saw Earth, a perfect blue marble nestled in amongst it all.

Steven gave her hand a squeeze.

“Well? What do you think?”

She turned to him, mouth slightly agape.

“It’s… incredible. I don’t know what else to say. You went to all this trouble for me?”

After all these years, she really shouldn’t be so surprised.

“Of course I did!” he exclaimed, incredulous, tugging her over to the centre of the dome and settling down into his little makeshift nest.

She sat down beside him, took note of how soft the blankets were, and the high-quality fabric of the cushions. Shrugging off her jacket and laying it next to her, she picked up a pillow and gave it an experimental squeeze. In the corner of her vision, she saw Steven rummaging around his pockets, but as soon as she turned her head he quickly retracted them and clasped them in his lap, then gave her a timid smile. A comfortable silence fell over the pair, and for a few perfect moments Connie revelled in the simple joy of basking in Steven’s affectionate gaze.

That was until she remembered the gargantuan task ahead of her and felt a sudden jolt of anxiety run all the way from her head to her toes.

She glanced back at her jacket, and in the time it took for her to look back at Steven, he had pulled a guitar out of seemingly nowhere and begun to pluck at the strings. A sweet and deceptively simple melody, matched perfectly to the natural timbre of his voice. It took good few seconds for her mind to catch up with her and realise that she was being serenaded. She tried very hard to listen to the lyrics, to give him her full undivided attention, but his eyes slipped momentarily to her left hand, and she was immediately struck by panic.

‘Oh no’, she thought, head in a tizzy, ‘He’s gonna propose.’

Of course, of course he was going to propose! The signs were all there, and yet she had let them slip past her. His nervousness, his mysterious disappearances, his insistence on making this day as special as possible. The Gems’ reactions, with Pearl’s confusion and Garnet’s cryptic advice that bordered on sabotage (she’d be sure to get back at her for that one). As preoccupied as she was with her own machinations, she had oh so foolishly managed to let Steven Quartz Universe of all people pull one over on her. He and his gaggle of socially inept aliens. With his unsubtlety and his honest face incapable of concealing a lie, it was practically out in the open from the moment he had asked her if she were free and shot her that lopsided grin as his cereal went soggy in the bowl, untouched and forgotten.

The song ended, and Connie felt very guilty that she had only caught about half the lyrics. Steven set down his guitar, and she, unwilling to accept her defeat, leapt into action. She twisted round, grabbed the ring box from her jacket pocket with a precise movement, and whipped around to face her partner. She hastily presented the box, flipping it open to reveal the ring inside; lovingly and painstakingly selected for its aesthetic appeal, and swallowed hard.

Steven froze in place, his hand still half buried in his inner breast pocket. His mouth fell agape, and he slowly pulled out a small, white ring box. He flushed, and she felt heat rising in her cheeks.

“Uh…” he choked, and then his face was split by a grin so brilliant it made her heart catch in her throat.

“Steven-” she started, but was immediately cut off.

“Connie, wait, I need to go first,” he said quickly, “We both know I won’t make it through yours without crying and I don’t wanna be all gross and snotty when I propose to you.”

“I don’t mind if you’re gross!” she assured him, supressing a giggle, “And I _know_ whatever speech you have planned is gonna make me sob like a baby! I have to go first!”

“But-”

“No buts, shut up and let me propose to you, Universe.”

He chuckled, brought his hands to rest on his lap, still clutching the ring box. Steven nodded, and gave her his full and undivided attention. All of a sudden, she felt the weight of the moment crashing down on her.

“Steven, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to out into words how much you mean to me, but I’m going to try anyway.”

He sniffled, and she saw tears welling up in his eyes already. Her voice wavered.

“I haven’t even got two sentences in! You’re gonna make me cry too!”

“Sorry,” he said, wiping at his eyes with his jacket sleeve.

“You apologise too much. You’re far too kind for your own good, you know.”

She reached over, took his hand in hers, and pressed onwards.

“I’m just so grateful that you were kind enough to make me a part of your life. I-… We were just kids when we met, and… I know you think that I would have been better off if you hadn’t have trapped me in that bubble with you, I know you worry about how dangerous it was for me to fight by your side.”

He averted his gaze, chewed on his bottom lip. Even with the intergalactic conflict years behind them, she could feel how he continued to struggle with that guilt.

“I don’t regret any of it, Steven. I fought to stay by your side, and I’ll _keep_ fighting if I have to. But…”

She withdrew her hand, and his eyes, wet and barely containing the tears that shimmered on their surface, met hers.

“With this,” she presented the ring once more, “I want to prove it. There’s no more fighting to be done, nothing to come between us. I know you struggled a lot with… thinking about your future, and sometimes we get stuck in the past, but I want us to build a future _together_ , starting now.”

She swallowed hard, took a deep breath through her nose and forced her wobbling vocal cords to hold steady as she spoke her final line.

“Steven, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, loud enough to make her flinch.

He presented his left hand, held it out with elegant flair. She took the ring between her fingers, and only then noticed how they trembled as she slipped it onto his finger. Raising his hand to his face, he took a moment to appreciate the sight of it, chest puffed out and a stray tear rolling down his cheek.

“Okay,” he said, frantically wiping at his face and presenting a ring box of his own, “My turn.”

He took a deep breath, and spoke, soft and low.

“I know I haven’t always been the best at… letting people take care of me. I tried to shut you out before, when I was younger, and… I need to thank you for never giving up on me. For not letting me push you away. For telling me I matter. I really needed…”

His lip trembled, and he made a choking sound. Connie immediately shuffled closer and placed a firm hand on his forearm, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

“I really needed someone to tell me I was important, too. I know I say it all the time, but I love you, Connie, and I wouldn’t be where I am now without you. I wouldn’t be _who_ I am now without you. I- I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you. You saved me, Connie, in more ways than one. I want to support you, and I- I feel selfish asking but, I wanna let you take care of me, when I need it. I-”

She stopped him, gave his arm a squeeze.

“That’s not selfish. I would never think you’re selfish for that.”

He gave a small nod, and whispered an acknowledgment that she couldn’t quite parse. He then opened the ring box, revealing a gold ring, adorned with constellations and dotted with tiny stars all engraved with expert craftsmanship and an acute attention to detail; a glistening golden star map, to be carried with her wherever she may go.

“Connie, will you marry me?”

“Of course I will,” she answered, more sure of herself than she had ever been.

He let out a sharp breath, somewhere between a laugh and sigh of relief.

“See,” he said as he gently took her hand and slipped on the ring, “I knew you were gonna say _yes_ , but for some reason I was still braced for the worst.”

“I never said no before, why would I say it now?”

He laughed again, a little more solidly than before.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

He was being down on himself again, and Connie wouldn’t stand for it. Especially not on the night of their long-awaited engagement. She took his face in her hands, pulled him forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, held it just long enough to take his breath away. When she pulled back, his face was flushed and his eyes sparkled with the same dizzying joy they had when they shared their first chaste kiss as a pair of stuttering teens.

“Everything.”

He leapt forward, catching her by surprise and wrapping her up in his arms as they tumbled onto the blanketed floor. His face was buried in her chest, and she let out a joyous laugh as her weepy fiancée sniffled into her dress. They remained there, all wrapped up in each other’s arms, and Steven admitted to her that, for the first time since he was a child, thinking about the future didn’t seem so scary anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back writing fics again after taking an unplanned hiatus due to mental health reasons. Growing Pains will return too, be patient with me  
> I need to get back into practice before I continue it  
> See you guys soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Growing Pains has been put on the back burner to accommodate Jam Week, I'll be working on it again soon! Enjoy the fluff!


End file.
